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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23024050">Superficial and self-absorbed</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Estie/pseuds/Estie'>Estie</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 12:33:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,285</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23024050</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Estie/pseuds/Estie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Strike stared with dismay at the turquoise-dressed blonde sitting opposite him, blathering away oblivious to the lack of interest – no, disgust – her companion was feeling.</p><p>“I really shouldn’t tell you this but Xen – you know, Mick Jagger’s interior designer – was in yesterday and I gave him a sneak peak of the September catalogue which I really shouldn’t have done but you know, it was Mick! The usual rules don’t apply to people like him or your dad.”</p><p>How the fuck had he got talked into taking this woman out for dinner? And how quickly could he bail?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Matthew Cunliffe/Robin Ellacott</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>The Cormoran Strike Fest of Firsts</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Superficial and self-absorbed</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemon_verbena/gifts">lemon_verbena</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Prompts:</p><p>Alternate Universe/ Exes / First Date / “Can we just pretend to be normal for once”</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Strike stared with dismay at the turquoise-dressed blonde sitting opposite him, blathering away oblivious to the lack of interest – no, disgust – her companion was feeling.</p><p>“I really shouldn’t tell you this but Xen – you know, Mick Jagger’s interior designer – was in yesterday and I gave him a sneak peak of the September catalogue which I really shouldn’t have done but you know, it was Mick! The usual rules don’t apply to people like him or your dad.”</p><p>How the fuck had he got talked into taking this woman out for dinner? And how quickly could he bail?</p><p>“Hmm,” he grunted neutrally. Best not to completely lose it with her. Afterall, she had been very helpful in sourcing an expert to value the painting at the heart of his most recent case. Still…</p><p>“I don’t know if I can quite agree with you there, Sarah. A lot of my work is because people think the usual rules don’t apply to them.”</p><p>“I’m not talking about <em>crime </em>Cormy,” said Sarah Shadlock, slapping his arm playfully but none too gently. “I’m talking about giving them the first chance to know about what’s coming up for sale.”</p><p><em>“And how many steps is this away from giving them advance notice of a share float or business deal that gives them a major financial advantage?” </em>Strike wondered but did not say.</p><p>“I haven’t yet met your dad’s entourage,” Sarah was saying. “Who is it that manages his London properties?”</p><p>Aha. That’s what she wanted out of him. A contact.</p><p>“I haven’t the least idea,” he replied, tipping the last of his beer down his throat.</p><p>“It’s a shame you and Charlotte Campbell split up,” Sarah went on, unaware and uncaring as to the spasm of pain that shot across Strike’s face at the name of his ex-fiancé. “She has the most divine taste in jewellery.</p><p>“Still, at least Jago can afford to indulge her whims in that area,” she laughed, insensitive to Strike’s feelings. “But I’ve always found her quite cold towards me.”</p><p><em>That’s because she isn’t a fucking idiot</em>, Strike thought.</p><p>“Right!” he said forcefully. “I’m going to get myself a refill. Can I get you anything?”</p><p>At the bar, after placing his order, Strike buried his face in his hands.</p><p>“Are you okay?” asked a woman with a distinct northern accent.</p><p>Strike lifted his head and smiled ruefully.</p><p>“I’m fine. Just on a date from hell and wondering how quickly I can escape.”</p><p>The woman smiled sympathetically. She was tall, with clear grey-blue eyes, alabaster skin, gentle curves and red-gold curls tumbling to her shoulder.</p><p>“Probably best to skip dessert then,” she said.</p><p>“I don’t think she’ll buy that,” said Strike. “I don’t look like the sort of man who skips dessert.”</p><p>The woman looked at him thoughtfully. “You can always tell her you are on a diet.”</p><p>Strike burst out laughing. “She’s superficial enough and self-absorbed enough to believe that!”</p><p>Feeling far more cheerful for his brief encounter with this stranger, Strike took his beer and a glass of burgundy and headed back to his table.</p><p>Robin watched the man as he walked away, noting his broad shoulders, dark curly hair and slight limp. She had just accepted a glass of white wine from the bartender when she almost dropped it in shock. The man she had just been speaking to was handing the burgundy to a blonde woman with shrewd and calculating eyes, who Robin recognised all too well: Sarah Shadlock!</p><p>Somewhat dazed, Robin made her way back to her table.</p><p><em>Superficial and self-absorbed</em>. Well, at least the man was smart enough to recognise the real Sarah. Robin ground her teeth with fury.</p><p>“Hey Rob, snap out of it!”</p><p>Robin blinked. Her husband, Matthew, was looking at her, not with concern but with irritation.</p><p>“What’s up, Rob?” he asked.</p><p>“I just saw Sarah Shadlock,” Robin replied without thinking.</p><p>“Oh,” said Matt, before adding defensively, “It’s a free country. She can eat where she likes.”</p><p><em>Not in my vicinity</em>, thought Robin viciously. But she pulled herself together, determined not to let the little minx derail any more of her life.</p><p>“You’re right,” she smiled. “Now, as I was saying, I’ve spoken to the recruitment officer and if I put in my application this week, I could be part of the September intake.”</p><p>Mathew looked at Robin uncomprehendingly. “But why the police?” he asked. “The pay is shit. It’s dangerous work and you’ll have to work early mornings and nights sometimes. It’s not family-friendly.”</p><p>Robin set her jaw. “Because this is what I have always wanted to do. Because I’m bored out of my brains in that stupid corporate office. Because there is more to life than money.”</p><p><em>And because this was the deal for me not walking out on you the day I found Sarah Shadlock’s diamond earirng in our bed</em>.</p><p>Matthew winced as though Robin had spoken aloud.</p><p>“It’ll put us behind on getting a decent car,” he began.</p><p>Robin snapped. “We have a decent car. The Land Rover. It may be old but it hasn’t let us down yet - unlike Sarah’s showy BMW!”</p><p>Matthew frowned and Robin fumed.</p><p>In an instant she realised that Matthew, like Sarah, would rather have a broken-down new BMW than a functioning old Land Rover.</p><p><em>Talk about shallow and self-absorbed</em>, she thought.</p><p>Six months ago, before the diamond earring in the bed incident, Robin and Matthew had given Sarah a lift in the Land Rover because her BMW was off the road. Instead of being grateful, Sarah had spent the entire journey talking about the Land Rover’s smell and its lack of a radio or air conditioner, saying rather pointedly that it was a good demonstration that just because something was old, didn’t mean it was a valuable antique.</p><p>Robin had bitten down the urge to tell Sarah that she was welcome to walk. Now she realised that Matthew’s silence at the time was not due to polite restraint but because he had agreed with Sarah.</p><p>Robin sighed. She was so god-damn tired of all this.</p><p>Just when she thought the evening couldn’t get any worse, she heard a familiar squeal.</p><p>“Matthew! Robin! How wonderful to see you!”</p><p><em>I can’t say the feeling is mutual, </em>thought Robin.</p><p>Then she noticed Sarah, Matthew and Sarah’s date all staring at her.</p><p>“Shit, did I say that aloud?”</p><p>Sarah’s date looked like he was suppressing a huge grin. Matthew glared at her furiously.</p><p>“Can we just pretend to be normal for once?” he hissed angrily in Robin’s ear.</p><p>Robin threw caution to the wind.</p><p>“Do you have your car with you?” she asked Sarah.</p><p>When Sarah nodded, Robin stood up, grabbed her bag and coat and said, “Why don’t you and Matthew just continue your cosy little catch up?”</p><p>“I’d prefer you not to leave anything else in my bed before I move out officially,” she added. “Probably in the next week or two. Can you give Matt a lift home?”</p><p>Robin looked at Strike. “I can offer you a lift in my old Land Rover if you want. It’s not pretty but it hasn’t let me down yet.”</p><p>“Thank you,” Strike said gravely.</p><p>“Wait!” said Matt. “Rob, you don’t know this man. It’s not safe to offer strangers lifts.”</p><p>Robin smiled crookedly. “I know he came here with Sarah and we both know that she would never go anywhere with someone who couldn’t take care of her. And I know, from my very brief conversation with him in the bar, that he has excellent judgement.”</p><p>She turned to Strike and held out her hand.</p><p>“Robin Ellacott. Pleased to meet you.”</p><p>“Pleased to meet you too,” the man replied. “My name is Cormoran Strike.”</p>
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